Music and Military Rifles
by Craic agus Ceol
Summary: The twelve point scores in the Eurovision Song Contest can make or break a nation, and Sweden rode them right to the top this year. But since when does awarding the douze points give a nation leeway to propose to the recipient? Finland certainly doesn't remember THIS rule from previous years... established SuFin.
1. Music and Military Rifles

**A/n - I am ashamed that I have not updated my ongoing fic in months. I am _not _sorry that I wrote fanfiction about the aftermath of the 2012 Eurovision Song Contest. This kind of spawned from thinking, "gosh, a lot of nations gave Sweden the twelve this year!" and a random post somewhere (possibly Tumblr?) joking about twelve points as wedding proposals and how Finland might feel about that. And then I wrote 3000+ words about it, because I have a tendency to ramble.**

**Disclaimer - I don't own ESC or anyone affiliated. I also don't own any Hetalia characters you recognize. I do own my version of Ireland, as well as Israel, Azerbaijan and Slovakia.**

**Please enjoy! There are also some footnotes. I wish I could give you real footnotes, but as we all know this page does not support superscripts.  
**

**Oh, and here thar be established SuFin. Except I fail at writing romance (even subtle, established romance!). OH WELL.**

* * *

Finland looked up from his book and smiled as Sweden entered the house, closing the door softly behind him. He hadn't gotten a chance to congratulate the other nation for winning Eurovision. Well, not properly, anyway. The rest of Saturday night was spent celebrating with Denmark, Norway and Iceland, and there had been no shortage of toasts made to yet another Nordic victory.

(It was just undeniable proof, Denmark had said, that they were _obviously _the best singers in Europe, no matter _what _the Baltics said.)

Finland's congratulations were forestalled when he saw the expression on Sweden's face. He looked perturbed, though it would take someone that was intimately familiar with the man to know it. After all, Sweden didn't seem to have many facial expressions aside from 'scary.'

But Finland had known Sweden for hundreds of years, and was more than capable of recognizing when the taller nation was upset.

"What happened?" Finland asked as he set aside his book. "Did something go wrong at the press conference? Are you okay?"

"Hn," Sweden replied as he shrugged out of his coat. It was not a very satisfying answer, but Finland knew better than to press his partner. Sweden would tell the story in his own time. At least he appeared fine, physically, and Finland would have heard if something awful happened at the press conference. At least _some_ of his concerns could be so easily relieved.

"There should be some coffee still in the pot," The change of subject was very smooth, Finland thought. "Or I can make more. Actually, that would probably be a good idea."

"Where's Sealand?" Sweden asked from the front room, as Finland busied himself with the coffee. It was a good idea he'd decided to change the pot — this one was cold. There were a few _korvapuustit _left, too, though Finland doubted Sweden would be interested. After all, he did just come from lunch with Loreen and Azerbaijan. Sealand would be thrilled — it had been hard enough convincing him to save some for Sweden.

"He's spending the day at Estonia's with Latvia," Finland replied. "They're celebrating Estonia's finish." Estonia had done extremely well this year, and Finland made a mental note to visit at some point and congratulate him. Hopefully Estonia would be sober enough to refrain from demanding to join the Nordics this time. Finland wasn't in charge of that sort of thing (who was, really?) and it would only make Latvia upset.

Sweden said something in the other room that Finland couldn't quite make out, but he took it for another 'hn' of approval.

A few minutes later found Sweden and Finland assembled around the kitchen table, sipping coffee and sharing a plate of leftover _korvapuustit._ One of them would have to go shopping again soon, if only to keep Sealand's sweet tooth sated. Unlike most nations, Sealand had no problem with Finland's cooking — _anything_, he claimed, was better than England's cuisine. Finland never was quite sure whether to be flattered or insulted.

"France was at the conference," Sweden muttered into his mug. Finland barely heard him.

"That's not unusual though, is it?" Finland asked. It wasn't as if France had much to celebrate. He'd finished near the bottom. In fact, he'd tied with Denmark, which Denmark would _not_ stop whining about. "He is one of the founders, after all."

Sweden shook his head slowly, not reassured in the slightest. Finland narrowed his eyes. This _was_ France, after all.

"_Azerbajdzjan _din' like it, either," Sweden added. Now he had Finland's attention. Azerbaijan was not the type to blow things out of proportion, even when it came to France. _Especially _when it came to France — she had better things to worry about, like Armenia and Russia and Turkey.

"What was he doing there?" Finland wondered aloud. It could be something entirely innocent, but 'France' and 'innocent' hardly belonged in the same sentence.

Sweden could only offer a small shrug in reply. Not for the first time, Finland wished Sweden was a little more communicative.

"Ah, well," Finland finally said with a soft smile. "I wouldn't worry about it. He was probably trying to chase down Loreen. She's very pretty." Sweden nodded absentmindedly, still not quite prepared to put the issue to rest. Well, if Sweden was still worried, then Finland had to get to the bottom of it.

Maybe France was trying to get some leg up on the Euro Cup? After all, Sweden and France were in the same group, and Sweden would still be riding high on the Eurovision win when June rolled around. But wouldn't France consider England —

The phone was ringing.

"I'll get it," Finland said. It was probably Sealand, demanding a ride home. As if he wasn't perfectly capable of traveling the short distance between Tallinn and Tornio-Haparanda himself. If he could get all the way to London on his lonesome, then he was more than capable of crossing the Baltic Sea.

But it wasn't Sealand.

"_Hola_,_ Finlandia_!"

"Spain?" Finland asked, completely taken aback. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd chatted with the Iberian nation outside of meetings. They didn't exactly travel in similar social circles. How on earth did he get the phone number for their summer house?

"_¿Cómo estás?_"

"Fine, fine," Finland replied, still confused. "And you?"

"Excellent, _gracias_," Finland could practically hear the smile on Spain's face. By now, Sweden was looking over at him with a mostly-unreadable expression. Finland assumed it was 'puzzled' and shrugged in response.

"Ah, congratulations on your finish in Eurovision!" Finland added, recalling Spain had finished fairly well.

"_¡Gracias!_ That is why I'm calling, in fact," Spain replied, as if he'd only just remembered. "I was hoping to speak to Sweden?"

Finland frowned. Had he heard that right? _Spain_ wanted to talk to _Sweden_? Not only was Sweden's taciturn nature the exact opposite of the Iberian nation's gregarious personality, but Spain was a notorious lover of 'cute' — and Sweden was many things, but cute was not one of them.

('Handsome,' however, did jump to the forefront of Finland's mind.)

"Um, of course," Finland said, suddenly unsure. He handed the phone off to Sweden, who eyed it suspiciously. "It's Spain," Finland added, trying to be at least somewhat helpful.

Unfortunately, it only added to Sweden's confusion. Like Finland, he had no idea why Spain would want to talk to him.

"H'llo?" he asked. To Finland, it sounded tentative. To Spain, the greeting was likely gruff and threatening.

Finland couldn't hear what Spain was saying, but he watched as Sweden shifted from confused to rather upset. Finland might not have been able to figure out the France situation, but he could very well deal with Spain. Sweden was far too shy to interrupt Spain when he was talking, and far too polite to simply hang up the phone.

So Finland very gently extracted the phone out of Sweden's hands — it was a bit of a reach, he hated to admit — and listened in for a moment.

"… after all, I didgive you the _doce puntos_," Spain was saying. So it was a Eurovision thing! "So it wouldn't be completely unreasonable for marriage, even if it's just a short one! I know you'll love it here, and -"

Finland practically slammed the phone down on the cradle. No wonder Sweden was so upset! Did Spain _really _think giving Sweden's song twelve points counted for anything other than first place at Eurovision? It was an important bragging right, yes, but beyond that it was just some fun competition!

Besides, Sweden already _had _a wi- hm, partner. Surely everyone knew that by _now_.

The phone rang again almost immediately, and Finland didn't even give Sweden a chance to answer it.

"Yes?" he asked tersely. There was a short pause on the other end.

"Finland?" was the surprised reply. Well, it wasn't Spain. And Finland did feel a little bad about snapping at Hungary like that; they were still very close friends, despite realizing their native languages had little to nothing in common.

"Sorry, Hungary," Finland apologized, relaxing slightly. "I just got off the phone with Spain."

"Oh?" Hungary asked. "What did he want?"

"Nothing important," Finland waved off his earlier indignation. It was probably just Spain being his normal, oblivious self. It wasn't anything for him to get worked up about.

"Oh, good. Now, is your darling husband there? I was really hoping I could speak with him," Hungary asked.

"He's not my husband," Finland reminded her. Hungary giggled. Finland's eyes flickered over to Sweden, who was watching the proceedings with interest. "And no, he isn't here." Finland ignored the look of surprise on Sweden's face.

"Oh dear. I suppose I'll have to try his cell phone, then. Nice chatting with you, Finland! I expect I'll be seeing you at the Euro Cup! _Viszlát_!" It was an abrupt end, and a bit jarring for Finland to be so easily ignored by a friend.

Obviously something was going on here.

"Sweden, do you have your cell phone?" Finland asked. Sweden thought for a moment.

"In my coat pocket," he recalled. "'s on silent; I didn't want it to ring during the conference." Finland nodded, but he dreaded seeing how many missed calls would be on there. Over half of Europe had given Sweden the twelve, and if they were all after something…

True enough, there were seven missed calls on the cell: Austria, England, Belgium, Israel, Slovakia, Ireland and the Netherlands were all apparently trying to get in touch with Sweden. It was likely enough to annoy even Sweden — and Finland knew what happened when Sweden got annoyed. England still shuddered involuntarily whenever he saw one of the Scandinavians.

"You'd think by now they'd know that winning Eurovision means nothing, really," Finland said with a sigh as he watched Sweden delete the unheard voice messages. "Did anyone call me looking for favors when I won in 2006? Of course not!"

"You spent the whole week drunk," Sweden reminded him.

Finland blushed. True, he didn't remember much of the end of May that year. But he'd waited 45 years for that victory, and nobody could make jokes about Finland never winning Eurovision anymore.

"But I didn't wake up to eight messages on my phone!" Finland pointed out. "I imagine they'll stop soon, though. There's football coming up, after all." Finland didn't want to admit the real reason everyone would likely stop trying to get Sweden's attention: nearly every non-Nordic considered Sweden too intimidating for much close contact.

Sweden nodded. There _were _some important matches coming up, and he had better things to worry about than nations trying to use Eurovision for favors.

Finland smiled. "Now, we should probably see about grocery shopping, and maybe dropping in on -" Finland didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, as somebody chose that moment to ring the doorbell.

"Who could that be?" Finland asked. In all likelihood it was a neighbor, coming to invite them to yet another party. Never let it be said that Swedes (or Finns) didn't enjoy a good get-together, and the townspeople of Tornio-Haparanda weren't put off in the slightest by two men living together — even if it _was _a Finn and a Swede.

Sweden answered the door, with Finland trailing in his wake. Both of them stared at the assemblage on the doorstep.

There were eleven nations standing there. Some of the neighbors were beginning to peer oat their house in curiosity — the fluttering curtains caught Finland's eye as they tried to be subtle.

"Afternoon, Sweden," England said. He and France were leading the pack, perhaps unsurprisingly. Finland _was _somewhat surprised to see Germany lurking in the background. He wasn't usually the type to be so forward about asking for favors or proposing marriage or _whatever _this was all about.

Sweden nodded curtly in greeting, slightly overwhelmed by the group. Finland's fingers itched for a rifle in a way he hadn't felt since the Lapland War.

"I assume you know why I'm," England hesitated, glanced over at France and coughed demurely, "_we're _here."

Sweden didn't reply.

"You weren't answering any of our phone calls," England explained. "You see, I would like to take this opportunity to propose a business -"

"Marriage," France interrupted with a blinding smile. He produced a rose from seemingly nowhere and offered it to Sweden in a grand, sweeping gesture.

Sweden's standard stern expression actually shifted to genuine confusion. Even the other nations noticed the change, which was bizarre enough in and of itself.

"Now, don't seem so surprised," Belgium piped up from somewhere near the back. "We did give you the twelve points, after all. Doesn't that mean something?"

"'m already married," Sweden asserted. Finland bristled, but now was not the time to remind Sweden he was _not _his wife.

"Yes, it's very cute," Hungary agreed, and Finland was thrilled that _someone _was still behaving normally. "But marrying Austria would be _even cuter_."

Austria blushed, but he did nod in agreement. Finland's heart sank. And he considered Hungary an ally!

"'m not marrying anyone else," Sweden asserted. One large hand gently found its way around Finland's back, and Finland smiled. It wasn't often Sweden showed his affection in public — he was much too shy for that. But when he did, it warmed Finland's heart.

"You've been together with Finland for too long," France spoke up again. He was getting a little too close to Sweden for Finland's comfort. Pity Sweden made Finland stop keeping a _väkipuukko_ near the front door years ago. "Shouldn't you come with one of us for a time?"

Sweden wasn't quite sure what to say to that, other than to stare at France in bemusement. The thought of cheating on Finland never crossed his mind. They were an unconventional couple, to be sure, but they were still a couple.

"It's not fair," Slovakia whined. "Finland's not the only one who gave you twelve points, you know."

"So?" Finland asked, finally leaping into the argument. He couldn't let Sweden face these eleven nations alone, after all.

"So Sweden should spend some time with us, too," Slovakia finished, folding her arms and pouting.

"I don' think," Sweden began, but he was quickly drowned out by the others rationalizing their presence and demanding he stay with them, or visit their homes, or marry them, or some combination of the three. Sweden took a few uneasy steps back, not quite sure how to proceed. He wasn't a diplomat, not by a long shot — his method of conflict resolution was raiding and pillaging, and he was hundreds of years removed from thinking _that _was a good idea.

A battle was breaking out between Hungary and Slovakia, with a mildly concerned and embarrassed Austria watching from the sidelines. Spain was trying to come up with something 'cute' about Sweden, with the Netherlands contributing derisive remarks and Belgium trying to mediate between the two. France was beginning to get a bit too forward. Germany was still lurking somewhere in the background, trying to pretend he wasn't there for political favor. Ireland was not about to let England have the last word (or any words, really), and was about ready to get violent. Israel was lurking somewhere around somewhere; Finland knew he'd turn up when fists inevitably flying.

Poor Sweden looked so overwhelmed by the entire thing, and Finland knew he had to do _something_. He gave Sweden a reassuring pat on the shoulder before vanishing inside.

A moment later, the crack of a rifle split the air. The eleven-nation argument froze and as one turned to stare at Finland. The normally polite and cheerful nation stood on the porch, still holding the rifle up against his shoulder. He slowly lowered it, the expression on his face rivaling Sweden's most fearsome scowls.

"Now then," the polite tone carried more danger than it would have had Finland been shouting, "if I could please have your attention?"

Nobody dared make another move, not when Finland was holding a rifle.

"As I'm sure you're all aware, Sweden is _my _husband," Finland continued, his voice sharp in the clear May air. "And, quite frankly, I am not willing to share.

"Now then, if you would all kindly get off my lawn? I warn you, my next shot will not be quite so far above your heads."

The other nations needed no second bidding. In fact, Finland was fairly sure he'd never seen anyone move so quickly, with perhaps the exception of the Italies retreating from battle. Even so, he waited until they were out of his rifle's sights before he relaxed.

Ireland had been mere seconds from hitting Israel (of all nations!) in the face — Finland had seen it in the redhead's stance. An international incident had only narrowly been avoided. Thank God he'd convinced Sweden to let the rifle stay in the front room in lieu of the _väkipuukko_.

"Well, that was exciting," Finland said with a solid grin. Anyone else might have been shaky from the near disaster. "I don't expect we'll be hearing from them again." He turned to smile at Sweden, but the smile melted into confusion at the strange look on the taller nation's face.

Oh, right. Finland had called Sweden 'husband.' Well, there was a first time for everything, right?

"I have to protect your honor, you know," Finland explained, tilting his head in a jaunty manner. Sweden actually blushed. A long moment passed. Finland could practically see the wheels turning in Sweden's mind.

And then Sweden scooped Finland up in his arms and carried him inside. A small cry escaped the smaller nation at the sudden movement, but surprise melted into a much hotter emotion at the bright red color of Sweden's face. And judging by the speed at which Sweden carried his little wife — rifle and all — up the stairs, it wasn't just pleased affection warming Sweden's features, either.

Thank God Sealand was staying with the Baltics.

* * *

**Notes**

_**korvapuustit:** _are Finnish cinnamon buns  
_**Azerbajdzjan:** _Swedish for Azerbaijan  
**Tornio-Haparanda:** Tornio and Haparanda are two cities on the border between Finland and Sweden. Because of the huge cultural ties between the two cities, they are often referred to as Tornio-Haparanda (if you're Finnish) or Haparanda-Tornio (if you're Swedish). Hilariously, because of time zones, Haparanda is an hour behind Tornio. It makes New Years very interesting!  
**_¿Cómo estás?:_ **Spanish for "How are you?"  
**doce_ puntos:_ **twelve points, the highest amount awarded per voting nation in Eurovision  
**Viszlát:** Hungarian for "good bye"  
**_väkipuukko_: **a longer version of the puukko, the traditional Finnish belt knife_._

Finnish and Hungarian are both considered Uralic languages. This is an extremely controversial claim, as there are significant differences between the two languages and they have little to no mutual intelligibility.

The joke about Finland never winning Eurovision is the punchline of a long comparison between Finland and the rest of the world based on cold temperatures. I have also heard it said about Minnesotans, Russians, Canadians, and so on, with different punch lines to suit the nation. The gist of it starts at +15 C (the Spaniards wear winter coats and gloves, the Finns are out in the sun, getting a tan; this is also as warm as it gets in Finland) and ends at -300C (Hell freezes over, Finland wins the Eurovision Song Contest). For obvious reasons, it doesn't quite work that well anymore.

* * *

**There will be a epilogue forthcoming, because it wouldn't be a Eurovision 2012 fic without Russia.  
****(my favorite song this year was probably Serbia's, but I always have a soft spot for Romania. Malta should've gotten more points, too!)  
Also I just wrote an _entire mess _of characters I've never written before, so I would appreciate feedback about it.  
Don't mess with Finland, kiddies.  
Love and kisses,  
~Craic**


	2. Omake

**A/n I made an omake because it wouldn't be a "creepy marriage proposal" story without Russia... who was suspiciously absent from the first chapter.**

**Disclaimer I don't own any of the things I didn't own last time.**

**No Sweden this time, though. Just Finland and Estonia being bros.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"They really thought proposing marriage to _Sweden_ was a good idea?" Estonia asked. Finland nodded and took another sip of _kali_. Sweden's suitors had been well and truly run off, but it was several days after the fact before Finland was comfortable leaving the house.

Not that Sweden was complaining apparently he was rather fond of Finland 'defending his honor.'

"Maybe they all went mad with the economy," Estonia mused. "I can't think of why they'd be after Sweden _this _year. Nobody bothered Azerbaijan last year. Well, except for Russia, but that isn't anything outside the usual for us."

Finland shook his head. "Actually, Russia was one of the only ones that _didn't_ show up."

Estonia's eyebrows shot up into his bangs. "You're kidding."

"Russia and I have had an agreement since 2000," Finland acted as if it was enough explanation, but it only piqued Estonia's curiosity. To his knowledge, making deals with Russia almost always turned bad.

"What happened in 2000?"

"The Women's Ice Hockey World Championships," Finland said. His eyes glowed with pride. "My girls _annihilated _him."

"I imagine he didn't like that," Estonia said, suddenly understanding where Finland was going with this. There were, after all, only two things Russia hated losing: puppet states and ice hockey.

"Not in the slightest. But he thought it made me a worthy rival, and if we became one then perhaps we could finally give Canada a run for his money," Finland continued.

"Who?"

"Doesn't matter," Finland leaned back in his seat, toying with the glass of _kali _in his hands. The grin on his face gleamed like sunlight off the barrel of a gun. "What matter is, Russia _always_ seems to forget that I can see him coming a mile off and what I can see, I can hit."

There was a long pause, and Estonia wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Finland knocked back the rest of his drink and stood up.

"Now, what do you say I break out the Koskenkorva and you find the Vana Tallinn, and we call up the neighbors and have a game of floorball?" Finland asked. The violent look had vanished from his face almost as suddenly as it had appeared. Estonia chose to disregard the entire thing. As long as it kept Russia on his side of the border, Estonia didn't care _what _Finland did.

"As long as it isn't the _salmiakki_-flavored one," Estonia warned him. "_Again_."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Finland said cheerfully as he dialed Sweden's cell number. Just because Estonia vetoed the _salmiakkikossu _didn't mean he couldn't ask Sweden to bring the _salmiakki _itself. Besides, what good was a game of drunken floorball if food warfare didn't come into play?

* * *

**Notes**

**_kali_: **an Estonian beverage similar to the Russian kvass, which is basically fermented rye. It has a very low alcohol content.**  
Koskenkorva: **a type of alcohol similar to vodka produced entirely in Finland. It is also considered a symbol of "Finnishness."**  
Vana Tallinn: **a brand of sweet, rum-flavored liquor produced in Estonia  
**floorball:** think indoor hockey  
**salmiakki**:Finnish salted licorice**  
salmiakkikossu:** salmiakki-flavored Koskenkorva

* * *

**Headcanon says many ice-hockey nations are aware of Canada, mainly because he enjoys curb-stomping them in the sport  
****Also Nordic food warfare would be _horrifying.  
_I spent _way _too much time looking at international ice hockey scores for this stupid 500 word piece. I hate you, wikipedia.**  
**Admiration and affection,**  
**~Craic**


End file.
